DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
For the sixth and, she hoped, the final time, Sam held her id out for inspection. Captain Benjamin followed suit. The guard looked closely at their pictures, then their visitors badges, then - as the earlier four sentry posts had done - called the previous post for confirmation. Sam exchanged a meaningful look with the captain, then nodded politely if not graciously to the guard as they were finally admitted to the inner chamber.
As the security door clanged shut behind them, Captain Benjamin commented. "Just what the hell are they securing down here."
"Probably the Ark of the Covenant."
"Uh..."
"And for that matter, the Holy Grail's probably on the floor below."
"Uh, Major..."
"Or they could have found--"
"Major Carter, ma'am, are you feeling okay?"
Sam sighed heavily. "Sorry, Captain. I'm just worried about Daniel and Colonel O'Neill. One of us should have gone with him. If I'd tried a little harder..."
"Ma'am, have you ever been able to change his mind? When it's really set on something, I mean."
She giggled in spite of herself. "No. Point taken."
"So, what are they securing down here," he asked again, "The Egyptian Book of the Dead?"
"You may not be far wrong, Captain. You just may not be far wrong."
There was no one at all in Constitution Gardens when Jack leaped from the cab with five minutes to spare. He waited, not quite patiently, for ten more minutes in the Gardens themselves, then began to pace the paths. There were people everywhere, but no one approached him, and he was quite certain his adversaries knew exactly what he looked like. Which was more than he could say about them. He strolled slowly along the path to the Vietnam Memorial, admiring the beauty of the grounds and keeping an eye out for suspicious characters as he went. A homeless man picked through a half-full trash can looking for leftovers, while a businessman sat on a nearby bench munching on a sandwich and throwing chips to the squirrels, oblivious to the hungry figure less than ten feet away.
Jack watched the scene unfold, wishing he had food to share with the bedraggled figure. Money would probably be wasted on booze. As the homeless man turned away from the trash can, empty-handed, Jack gasped as he saw the medal on his chest. Medal of Honor. They didn't just give those away. And they were rarely pawned. No, the odds were that this old man was actually the recipient. As he looked more closely, he realized that old was not the correct term. The derelict was pushing fifty, maybe fifty-five, but he was definitely not old.
The colonel hesitated for a heart-beat, then walked quickly up to the man, and pushed a twenty dollar bill into his hand. Before the stunned man could utter a word, Jack walked away, blindly heading back to the gardens themselves.
"Well, that was an ... interesting display of compassion, Colonel O'Neill."
Jack forced himself to turn slowly, confidently. Not wanting the voice to realize he'd been caught off guard. "I have my moments."
"Not what your record says, Colonel. At least not your Black Ops record."
Brown eyes narrowed into slits, as he finally looked into eyes the shade of Daniel's. But there, the resemblance stopped. While Daniel's eyes were blue, they were warm, compassionate, almost always laughing. The eyes he faced now were cold as the Arctic circle. "You work for Parker."
The laugh failed to reach the other man's eyes, as he rose slowly from the bench, all hint of the businessman gone. "No. We're, shall we say partners. At least for now. The journals are with Major Carter?"
"Of course. You didn't really expect me to bring them, did you?"
"I didn't, but Roland thought you cared more for your young friend's well-being."
"Daniel..."
"Is fine, well, he does have a nasty cough and a fever, but being held upside down in a Jacuzzi could explain that. Probably just a cold."
"Why," Jack cleared his throat, "Why torture Daniel? He's harmless."
"So you say. And it wasn't torture, although I suspect Daniel would disagree. Not being able to breath at will gives one such a limited outlook."
"You haven't answered why."
"Because Roland could, Colonel, simply because he could. Shall we go?"
"Lead the way."
"Certainly, Colonel, but just as a small demonstration of our, shall we say, preparedness, the red spot on your chest is not yet blood."
Lieutenant Simmons was pacing the hall as Sam and the captain rounded the corner.
Sam smiled a greeting and returned the young woman's salute. "Lieutenant Simmons, where's the vault?"
"Uh, ma'am," Her voice held a hint of confusion, as she glanced at Captain Benjamin. "Colonel O'Neill's not coming?"
"No. Where's the vault?"
"Right here, Ma'am." She pointed to a wide door. She stepped back as Carter moved to insert the key.
To everyone's relief, it unlocked the door easily, allowing Sam to slip inside. Once there, she froze, blocking the entrance and her companions' view. "Holy Hannah!"
"What?... uh, ma'am"
Sam moved to one side, allowing the other two to enter and also freeze. The vault could easily have been the back room of some rundown museum, one without enough space or funds to display its exhibits properly.
"Oh my God." Simmons whispered in awe. "How? In a military vault?"
"Need to know Lieutenant." Benjamin came to his senses quickly. "If you'll wait outside..."
Reluctantly the young woman turned to leave, stopping only at Sam's command. "Wait. Lieutenant, please call General George Hammond at this number. Tell him I need a team here, yesterday."
"Yes, Ma'am!" Simmons raced out of the room.
"Major?"
"Need to know applies to you as well, Captain, but seeing as you're with NID, I'm assuming you already know some things."
He shook his head. "No, Ma'am. Only the basics. No clue what you really do. Should I wait outside also?"
Sam started to reply 'no', but a glint of gold caught her eye. "Actually, it might best if you do just that." She waited until he'd left the room, then tried not to run to the far corner. She frowned as she realized that the jewelry chest she'd spotted did not house the ribbon device mentioned in the journal, but it did contain jewelry. New jewelry. At least compared to the funerary jars near by. As she fingered the delicate gold charms on the little bracelet, she knew she'd found a piece of Daniel's past. Her heart broke as she saw the little boy figurine with the 8 July engraved on its back. 'Daniel's birthday. Oh, Daniel!'
She allowed herself a moment to review the remaining charms, a heart with another date engraved on it, a pyramid - how appropriate - a dancer. Sam froze. Dancer? Dance? No, reception. For the new ambassador from ... somewhere. One of the few times she'd attended a function while stationed in DC, without any military entanglements. Maybe that was why she'd remembered the house. Reluctantly dropping the bracelet back in a drawer, she hurried toward the door. She knew where the house was. Dammit to hell, she'd remembered, but was it too late?